


A few of my favourite things

by sweariwouldnt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Also no smut, Canon, Cats, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, also bears, just Domestic things, mild drug use, non-au, nor dogs, not much of a plot really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10445187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweariwouldnt/pseuds/sweariwouldnt
Summary: Harry and Louis do cat sitting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There was a cat-shaped empty spot of domestic Larry missing from my life. 
> 
> A few things you should know:  
> \- Clifford the dog is wholly disregarded in this story.  
> \- The minor character death is that of a bird. Not explicit.  
> \- There is one vague mention that could be seen as a reference to Jay passing away.  
> (I'm happy to give more information on anything and everything, just ask!)

Harry’s picking at the magnetic poetry words on the fridge door, reorganising the ‘I, love, you’ to ‘You, love, I’ but then decides against it. That is one too annoying of a grammar error for him to be looking at daily, so he reorganises the three little pieces back to the way they were.

“Are you even listening to me?” his mum’s frustrated voice startles him back to paying attention to the phone call he’s in the middle of. 

Harry sighs. “Mum, I said already, we have other things to do.” 

He can practically hear his mum roll her eyes. “Like what?”

“We, uhm,” Harry throws a panicky look at Louis, trying to convey a telepathic message of ‘help me’. 

Message seems to be received yet disregarded. “Not meddling into this one,” Louis holds up his hand and continues to stir chicken pieces on the pan. 

“Well, mum,” Harry’s playing time now, “I can’t really tell you but you can probably read about it in the newspapers in a while. I know all about your awful tabloid reading habits, you’re fooling no one.” 

“Oh please,” Anne huffs. “You cannot guilt trip your way out of this one. It’s just one weekend, Harry.” 

“But mu-um,” Harry whines, “we never get a free weekend with Lou.”

“I never get a free spa weekend with my husband.”

“You just got one for your birthday! I know this because _we bought it for you_.”

Anne pays Harry’s rationale no mind. “Harry, please. One weekend of cat sitting. They’re technically your cats as well. You love cats. Especially these cats.” 

“Mum, I just think it’d be better if…” 

“Dusty probably doesn’t even recognise you anymore.”

“Mum!” Harry yelps, sounding upset enough for Louis to give him a quick look. “That’s low.” 

“Ok,” Anne goes silent for a moment. “Please pass me to my son-in-law.”

“Lou’s cooking.” 

“My son-in-law, Harry.” 

“Fine,” Harry sighs and gestures his phone towards Louis. Louis takes the phone and gives the spatula he’s been stirring the chicken with to Harry as an exchange. 

“Hi love,” Louis sounds deceivingly cheery and sweet as he’s listening to Anne go on a tirade, whilst he’s taking a cigarette from a pack on the counter and kicking his slippers on, opening the door to the back garden. “No, of course, not too much to ask…” 

Harry looks through the window at Louis walking in circles and smoking, barely getting a word in. Their eyes meet and Louis has a glint in his eyes. “Exactly, everything you do for him, yeah, I know the labour took hours…” is what Harry can make through the open window. 

He goes back to stirring the chicken and checking the boiling rice. He feels a bit bad, it’s not like his mum’s asking for an awful lot. A weekend up North, cat sitting, whilst she and Robin could go enjoy a spa weekend at the Lake District. Apparently _everyone_ in Cheshire suddenly has something to do on that weekend, plus Gemma’s whisked off for a holiday – a deserved holiday, _fine_ – to the Caribbean with her boyfriend, leaving Harry here to be an awful lazy son who doesn’t deserve his family’s love, apparently. 

Louis comes back in, having finished the call. “Dusty doesn’t even recognise you anymore, Harry,” he makes a failed attempt at looking serious. 

“Fine,” Harry sighs and takes the phone off Louis’ hand. 

**To:** Mum

 **Message:** We’ll be there on Friday at about 11. Expecting brunch x

Louis glances over Harry’s shoulder at the screen. “I said we’d be there at about 9,” he says nonchalantly and starts to rummage through their spice cabin. 

**To:** Mum

 **Message:** Sorry, at 9 apparently. That brunch better come with mimosas. 

Harry puts the phone down and starts seasoning the chicken with whatever spices Louis is passing to him. “So early, Lou.”

“Think of it as an adventure, babe. Watching the sun come up when we drive. Stopping at service stations and getting snacks and coffee. You love service stations.”

Harry really does. They feel like no man’s land, open 24/7, with people being there for different reasons, just passing each other by, nameless, feeling so secluded from everything and everyone else in the middle of the night. Sharing a space for a moment and then never meeting each other again. He and Louis have a habit of picking up a few people they see at their stops, coming up with stories about them that they then tell each other when their journey continues.

Harry nods. “You’re driving.” 

“Shocker,” Louis pecks him on the cheek and pats his bum. “Now did you remember to tell your mum you love her?” He’s trying to sound light but Harry wraps his arm around his shoulders anyway. 

**To:** Mum

 **Message:** PS. I love you. See you on Friday xxx 

\---

As much as Harry enjoys service stations, he does always have a sense of slight worry/panic about being spotted, despite wrapping himself up as unrecognisable as possible. Louis had made fun of him gently – ‘Honestly Haz, you don’t need to have a term for wearing a hoodie and sweats’ – but Harry considered a beanie pulled deep down on top of a hood pulled up, and sweatpants that were a bit pricey for a pair of casual wear mind, definitely worthy of being referred to as ‘cozy chic’. 

They’ve stopped at a 24-hour service station somewhere on the outskirts between Coventry and Birmingham. It’s a fairly nice one; not many people are in, the café area fairly tidy and, absolute winner, Haribo sweets are on offer with three for two bags. Harry is currently weighing between which ones to get. 

“Stop eyeing the Tangfastics,” Louis quietly interrupted his thoughts. He’s holding two take away cups of steaming coffee. 

“Hmm?” Harry turns to Louis. “But I like them.”

“You think you like them,” Louis corrects. “Just get three Starmixes and save us both from sourness.” 

“Fine,” Harry agrees, failing to remember ever really eating more than two before deciding that they were too much for him and he’d never buy sour sweets again. He grabs three Starmix bags and puts them into his basket, with two bottles of Lucozade and a bag of gum, and starts to make his way towards the till. 

“On your four o’clock, don’t look right away”, Louis whispers, sipping his coffee and looking at the opposite direction. 

Harry slowly turns his head, seeing a middle-aged man with an Esso cap on his head, reading a newspaper in one of the tables in the corner. His jeans are a bit dirty on the knees with what seems like an oil stain having been wiped on them. His padded red vest also looks a little worn out. He’s stirring a spoon slowly in his cup, sniffing occasionally. 

Harry nods; this man would be a very good subject for storytelling later. 

The lady on the till is probably in her early 60s, with a chubby face and a kind yet tired smile. “Hello dear,” she says and starts to run the items from the basket through the reader, taking her time. Her wedding ring is a bit on the tacky side, and Harry finds himself hoping that she gets to go home to a loving husband, and that she doesn’t need to work too any nightshifts anymore. Harry looks around, spots Louis looking through magazines further away (they try to keep a space between them when they’re out together sneakily, avoid recognition through connection) and their eyes meet. Louis nods towards a young bloke, dressed head to toe in grey with slightly frantic movements, holding a big pack of nappies on his arms, a pint of milk hanging from his index finger whilst he’s trying to pile up a few chocolate bars on top of the nappies. He has rather impressive bags under his eyes, Harry notes, before the bloke suddenly drops the chocolate bars and they go scattering around the floor. Cursing to himself, he bends down and then drops the pack of nappies instead. 

“Here, let me,” Louis offers and kneels down to pick up the items. The guy looks like he might cry out of gratitude. 

“Cheers, mate”, Harry hears the guy say to Louis at the same time as the till lady pipes up. 

“That will be £5.30, dear,” she says and finally lifts up her head to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry can see her squint her eyes and lean her head, like she’s considering Harry, and then her mouth forms a silent ‘oh’. 

Harry’s trying to act like he doesn’t notice it, buries his chin a bit deeper on his scarf and swipes his contactless card to pay. He takes the bagged items from the till lady, avoiding eye contact. 

“Thanks very much, hope you have a nice morning,” he says and leaves, feeling like a bit of a heel for disregarding the lady uttering ‘But my granddaughter…’

Louis is waiting outside by the doors, smoking a cigarette. He takes one look at flustered Harry speed-walking through the doors and stubs his smoke out. 

They sit quietly in the car for a bit. 

“I should’ve stayed,” Harry finally says, crossing his right foot under his left and turning to look at Louis. “Like, she said she had a granddaughter. I could’ve like given an autograph or something. Would’ve made her day.”

“Babe, you couldn’t,“ Louis squeezes his knee. “We both know you couldn’t have.” He sounds sorry, for a variety of reasons. 

“Let’s just go,” Harry says quietly and opens a bag of sweets, popping a few to his mouths and one to Louis’. “Do you want to talk about Craig, the lorry driver or Chase, the young dad who never sleeps, first?” 

Louis chuckles and starts the engine. “Pretty sure the lorry driver’s actually called Graeme.” 

Harry leans his side against the back of his seat, listening to Louis tell about poor Graeme and his life, about how much he misses his distant daughter. Harry keeps feeding them sweets and watches the sun start to rise.

\---

Thank fuck there were mimosas, Harry thinks as he finishes his third glass. Delicious mimosas, he mentally adds as he pours more to himself and Louis. Anne and Robin had treated them to a lovely brunch, making Harry feel absolutely awful about how much of a brat he was about coming here. They’d left about 15 minutes ago, with his mum looking a bit giddy and a lot beautiful. 

“I often forget they’ve been together for about the same time we have,” Louis comes back from the utility room, having fed the cats. “Like, they’re older. I forget they’re probably still a bit in love.”

“A bit in love?” Harry raises his eyebrows, offering a champagne flute to Louis. 

“Or, you know,” Louis gently brushes his lips against Harry’s, “quite a lot.” He deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry’s lower back and pulling him closer, indulging himself in the taste of orange juice, a bit of bubbles, and his very favourite taste of Harry. 

When they finish kissing, Harry stays in Louis’ arms and basks in the warmth radiating from his body. He wraps his arms a bit tighter around Louis’ shoulders and breathes in the skin of his neck. “It’s not even noon and we’re drunk.”

“We’re excellent cat sitters,” Louis nods and kisses Harry’s temple. “And Dusty clearly remembers you.” 

Harry laughs. “Yeh, remembers but doesn’t care.”

“She’s a cat.”

“Exactly. That’s why I need her to love me again.” 

Louis loosens his embrace and looks at Harry, like he’s measuring him. “You want to be loved by all the cats?” 

“Mm-hmm. And all the kids.” 

“Some kids are bastards, thought. And some cats especially are bastards.” 

“Mine aren’t. Won’t be.” 

“Ok, mum,” Louis snickers as he unwraps his arms around Harry and gently pats his lower tummy. 

“Dusty and Dotty both adore me,” Harry tells resolutely. “And it’s not like it’s a given, just because I feed them, like with dogs, I have actually earned their love.” 

“Maybe one day you’ll feed me well enough to earn my love, then,” Louis winks. “Oh Harold, all this cat talk is making me feel some sort of way.” 

Harry blushes. “What do you mean?” 

“Aristocats, babe,” Louis smiles and pokes Harry’s dimple. “Now is there popcorn in this house?” 

\---

It started raining around the time Edgar took the kitties to the countryside. Harry, Louis, a bowl of popcorn and the two black and white fluff balls have organised themselves into a nice pile on the huge, soft-enough-to-drown-in sofa in the living room. The rain is hammering quite loudly on the windows, and Harry can see Louis nodding off at times. He himself is multitasking between trying to scratch two cats at the same time with one hand, and rubbing Louis’ socked feet. He glances at Louis, softly snoring with a few fingers touching Dusty’s forehead, probably having dosed off mid-pet. Harry reaches for his phone, puts it on silent and takes a picture. He adds the text ‘dog person exposed’ on the picture and saves it to a special folder he’s been saving all his Louis pictures for years now. He returns his attention to the movie, on its last ten minutes, and pulls down the top of Louis’ sock a bit so he can trace the spider web tattoo with his finger. 

“Mrh,” Louis stirs and blinks his eyes open. “I’ve been awake the whole time.” 

“Of course you have, Lou.” 

“I didn’t miss a second.”

“Nah, you never do,” Harry leaves the tattoo alone and pinches Louis’ big toe gently instead, before moving to scratch Dotty behind her ears. She starts purring and Harry feels like a winner. “We should get a cat.” 

“We’re absolutely not getting a cat.” 

“Why?” Harry knows, they’ve had both this discussion and the one that the cat discussion usually leads up to more often lately. 

Louis looks at Dusty and tickles her forehead. “Because we’re always away. Not having my pet be passed around because we’re never home.”

Harry looks at Louis’ hand softly moving up and down on Dusty’s head, lulling her back to sleep. “Later, then.” 

“Later,” Louis agrees. 

They sit in a slightly reserved silence, listening to the rain drops hit the windows, when Harry continues. “Maybe we could just take this weekend as a sort of a trial, like if we…” 

“Harry, honestly.” Louis shakes his head. “Keeping cats alive in a home where we are just visiting is not the same, at all.” 

“Well, I’d hope we’d do more than just keep them alive,” Harry huffs. 

“Look, babe,” Louis sits up a bit straighter. “That’s just the point, isn’t it? They’d deserve more than to just a roof over their head and to have someone feed them. I don’t want our kids…” he stops midsentence. 

And there it is. Again. The big, huge, ‘desperately wanted but postponed until further notice’ issue they really talk about every time Harry brings up the vaguely hopeful subject of pets. 

“I know, I do,” Harry sighs. “It’s stupid. I know.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Louis says softly. “You know how much I want our family. It’s just, it’s not the right time. We don’t… Like, I want our kids to have the best life ever. And they will, because we will give them all the best things ever. It’s just not yet.”

Harry nods, trying to play with Dotty’s tail even though she sways it away every time Harry’s finger comes close. “We will be the best ever.” 

“We’ll be awful. Spoil them rotten.” 

Harry laughs and it comes lightly. “Yeh, we will. We’ll be so embarrassing.” 

“SO embarrassing. God, I feel so sorry for them already. Your dad dance moves…”

“…You thinking you’re so hip and cool…”

“…You moping at your own children when they beat you at board games…”

“Hey!” Harry yelps. “Now you’re just pushing it.” 

Louis looks absolutely unapologetic and grins. “We’ll be the best. The very best.”

“The bestest.” 

“And, like, for now, we can just think of us as our baby. Like, our relationship. Like, we both need to nurture it, and give it love, and make sure it keeps on growing happy and safe, and even if shit happens, know it’s still safe and we’re not leaving it or loving it less.”

Harry bites his lower lip. “You mean, like… Do more than just keep it alive? Give time to it and take care of it?” 

“Exactly,” Louis smiles, “we’ll take care of this baby whilst we wait for actual babies. Now show me your embarrassing kid pics again. I can’t believe how cute you were.”

“Am still cute,” Harry pouts and it’s a bit ridiculous probably but he hopes it’s also a lot endearing. 

Louis seems to agree, based on his fond look. “You are. But wee Harry is something else. You make my brovaries perk up.” 

Harry lets out a loud laugh. “You are an idiot. No kids for Lou.” 

But he still gets up and gets the battered old photo album. 

\---

The rain stops around 4PM and the sun peaks out from behind the clouds. Dotty and Dusty spurt off outside, the little bells on their collars happily jingling away. 

Harry stretches his hands above his head, stands up and rotates his hips a few times; to the left, then to the right. 

“Such an old man, Harold,” Louis observes as he’s picking the last bits of popcorn from the bowl.

“Am not. Am young and hip.” 

“More like hip replaced soon.”

“Hey! If my hips are getting wonky, it’s not completely not-your-fault. My hips would be great if you didn’t cause them so much strain.” 

Louis throws a kernel at Harry. “That can be arranged. I can leave your hips alone.” 

“Please don’t,” Harry picks up the kernel from the floor and throws it back at Louis. With one last stretch, he looks out of the window. “No way we’re going outside today. So grey and dull.” 

“Like you will be soon, old man.”

Harry gives Louis a bored look. “It’s like you want me leave your annoying arse.” 

Louis laughs and stands up, taking Harry’s hands and leans back to stretch himself. “Nah. We’ll grow old and grey and dull and get hip replacements together.” He pulls himself back to standing up straight and pinches Harry’s cheek. “You are my favourite thing, after all.” 

Harry starts humming to ‘These are a few of my favourite things’. “Ah I wish we had some green. I’d love to watch Sound of Music and feel a bit floaty.”

There’s a spark appearing in Louis’ eye that, depending on if it’s at you or with you, is either menacing or extremely promising. “Don’t you know me at all?” He winks. “I came prepared.” 

Harry air-pumps his first. “You are my favourite thing, too. Now roll us one and put the DVD on, I’ll start on the cookie batter.”

Fate did do a remarkably good job, getting them two together, Harry thinks yet again as he’s measuring flour in the kitchen. What an excellent coincidence they both consider chocolate chip cookie batter as a very best way to treat munchies.

“Ready babe,” Louis comes in and nods towards the conservatory. Harry washes his hands and wipes them on Louis’ back, following him to the back garden. 

“Your mum’s conservatory is so nice,” Louis says as he inhales and closes his eyes. “We should get one.” 

Harry takes a drag from the spliff and tries not to cough. “Honey we have one. Actually, we have more than one, we have one like at each house.” 

“Ah,” Louis still has his eyes closed. “I guess, what I’m trying to say, is that we should have one that looks more like your mum’s.” 

“You mean one that isn’t full of random junk?” 

“That would be a start.” 

“Take those words, Lewis. Listen to yourself and understand what you’re saying and remember them the next time I suggest we clean the shit up and put it into the shed.” 

Louis waves his hand. “Sure, sure. It’s all my crap anyway, me being such an enthusiastic user of that huge gym ball and like, what is it, three boxes of art books?” 

“Boxes that are stocked away neatly to make space for your footballs. I counted them, Lou, you have 43 footballs.”

“The boxes are literally on the floor, Haz. I either stub my toe on them every time or break my bag trying to move them, that shit is heavy.” Harry takes another drag and holds it in. “Fine. When we get home, we’re clearing out the conservatory,” his words are mixed with the smoke he exhales. 

“Deal,” Louis holds out his hand and Harry shakes on it. 

When they’re done smoking, they go back inside. Louis raids the cabin he knows Anne has her sweets hidden in, finds a bar of plain Cadbury and starts breaking it into little chips to put into the batter. 

“We should come here more often,” he says as he mixes the chocolate chips to the batter Harry’s just finished. “I like it here. So peaceful and nice and just… Away from everything.” 

“We should,” Harry agrees and dips his finger into the batter, then to his mouth. Divine. He dips his finger in again and holds it towards Louis, who takes his finger to his mouth and licks it, then nods approvingly. “If tomorrow’s nice, we should go for a walk by the water.” 

“Let’s go even if it’s grim. Pretend we’re on reality telly, surviving or something.”

“Eugh.” 

“Haz, we’re being proper slobs today. We deserve some sort of a repayment for our sins. Eating sugar and flour from the bowl, gosh, what even are we.” 

“Awful,” Harry agrees and gives Louis a quick kiss.

It’s a bit of a tradition, watching Sound of Music under influence. They know the lyrics, most of the lines, and when Maria is hopping around in The Alps, Louis always drags Harry up and they bounce around the room, waving their hands around with absolutely no choreography. 

“Shit,” Louis says when they slump back down on the sofa, a bit out of breath, “forgot I’m a huge popstar there for a minute.” 

Harry lets out a loud laugh. “Aww, poor famous babe! Would you want me to take a creepy fan pic with you? Would that make you feel better?” He’s already reaching for his phone. 

“Nah,“ Louis chuckles. “Just that… Like this is so good. So much fun. Like we’re just us and not, you know, us-us. It’s like we’re just boyfriends cat sitting and being stupid.” 

Harry’s about to get a bit emotional and say quite a few things, loving things, when an apocalyptic sound breaks his thoughts. “The fuck was that?” 

Louis is staring at him, eyes big. “Was that a cat?” 

At the same time, Dusty springs to the living room, meowing loudly and sharply. 

“What are you saying, kitty?” Louis kneels down next to her. “Are you ok?” 

Dusty keep meowling and takes a few steps towards the hall, stops, looks at Louis again and meows some more. “You want me to come with?” 

Harry can hear the even more menacing sound continue somewhere in the hall. It sounds like Dotty’s in huge pain, probably, barely stopping to take breaths between her meowing – or more like yodelling, it sounds. 

Then it hits him. “Shit, Lou…” he grimaces. “She’s got something.” 

“What, like rabies?” 

“No, like…” Harry shivers. “I know that sound. She brought us a gift.” 

Louis chuckles. “What, with her pocket money? She went and got us a wine basket? Babe, shush.” 

“No, I mean, like a bird or something.” Harry scrunches his nose in disgust. “I’m not going out there.” 

Louis has picked up on Harry’s words by now and looks a bit horrified and a lot creeped out. “Well I’m not going there, either.” 

Dusty is still meowing and now circling Louis’ feet, her fluffy tail perked upright. “Quiet, you beast,” Louis tells her, “go deal with your sister.” 

For a moment, Harry and Louis stand in the middle of the living room, movie completely forgotten, one cat being noisy by their feet and the other carrying on making a ruckus in the hall.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Harry finally suggests. 

“No fucking way,” Louis shakes his head, “it’s your cat.” 

“My mum’s cat,” Harry corrects. 

“Well exactly, _your_ mum’s.”

Harry pouts and tries to look as pitiful as he can. “Go together? In sickness and in health?” 

Louis looks at him, defenseless. “Fine,” he sighs, “Dusty, lead the way”.

Dusty, feeling accomplished, basically hops all the way to the hall, meowing happily as Harry and Louis follow her with cautious steps. On the floor near the door, is a smug looking Dotty with a black lump by her front paws. 

“Is it alive?” Louis asks, voice shivering, then he spots a few feathers on the floor and turnsr his back to the sight. 

Harry tiptoes closer, letting out a relived sigh. “No, it’s… It’s pretty done.”

“Fucking hate cats, vile killer creatures, I swear to god…” Louis has gone on a tirade, muttering under his breath. 

“Stop it, Lou. Get me kitchen roll and a bin bag, please.” 

“Never ever getting a cat, I swear…” Harry can hear Louis continue his muttering but at least he returns soon with a kitchen roll and a small plastic bag. “Not a very glorified coffin,” Louis remarks and passes the roll and the bag to Harry. 

Harry says nothing as he picks up the remains of an unidentified little bird to the bag. He gathers himself for a moment and pats Dotty’s head. “Cheers Dotty, very nice but never again, ok? Leave little birdies alone, okay? I love you.” 

Louis stares at him, mouth hanging open. “What?” 

“What?” 

“Why did you do that? You should yell at her.”

“Lou, she’s a cat. She can’t help it,” Harry’s putting on slippers by the door. 

“You should’ve told her off!” Louis follows Harry outside, to the big bins by the garage. 

“Bye little bird, fly happy,” Harry mutters as he opens the lid of the bin and throws the bag in.

He can hear Louis huff and tut behind him, but no words come out until they’re back inside. The cats seem to be exhausted by their afternoon adventure and are now curled up on the stairs, Dusty lazily looking at them with one eye open.

“Harry, I’m not pleased,” Louis says sternly as he’s leaning against the downstairs bathroom door and watching Harry was his hands. “You should’ve like, I don’t know, been mad.” 

“Lou, she’s a cat. Yeah, it’s grim, but like… She brought us a gift. That’s why cats do it, they think they’re feeding their family whose unable to feed themselves. I’m not going to go mental for an animal for doing what’s in their nature, especially when it’s a thing she did out of caring.”

“She was being a beast, that’s what it was.” 

“Lou,” Harry dries his hands to a towel. “It is what it is. I don’t want to hurt her feelings and yell at her for doing something that isn’t wrong. Like, I wouldn’t get mad at our kid for doing something that kids do, like, well I don’t know what right now, but…”

“You honestly cannot compare these cats to our kids.” 

“But it is the same! A little bit,” Harry offers when Louis looks positively offended. “These cats are small. They need us and they trust us to take good care of them, and they repay us the way they know how. I’m not going to break that trust by yelling at them for something I think is awful, but they think is sweet.” 

Louis looks at him, starts to say something but then decides against it and closes his mouth, now a thin line. 

“And don’t be mad at her.” Harry points his finger at Louis as he goes to the cats and meows at them a little, softly.

Harry’s leaning his elbows on the open-side stairs, as he feels hands wrap around him and Louis’ chin on his shoulder. He sees Louis’ hand stretched out, petting Dusty gently at first and then Dotty,

“You’re very lovely,” Louis says softly. “You’ll be an amazing parent.”

Harry turns his head a little and nuzzles his nose to Louis’. “We both will.” 

They stand there, looking at the cats and breathing in the same rhythm for bit, until Louis speaks up. 

“Wanna get drunk and play Scrabble?” 

\---

“What music do you want on?” Louis looking at the CD-tower when Harry comes into the living room, balancing two wine classes and a bottle of wine from his mum’s wine cabin. He feels like such a son, coming over to his mum’s house and eating her food and drinking her wine, but hey, at least he chose a fairly cheap bottle and left the proper nice ones untouched. 

“Don’t mind. Blind pick something?” 

Louis nods, closes his eyes and points his finger up and down the tower, then picking one CD at random. He opens his eyes. “Iron Maiden.” 

“I can’t see anything.” 

“Huh?” 

“I didn’t see anything. Go again. _Cheat_ , Lou.” 

“Ah,” Louis gets it and goes again. “Roy Orbison.” 

“Ooh, haven’t listened to him in ages! You good with that?” 

“Uh-huh,” Louis nods and puts the CD on, smiling as the first tunes of ‘Only the lonely’ fill the dim-lit living room. 

“You sure candles were a good idea, Haz?” Louis asks as he sits down on the white fluffy rug, where Harry is lying on his stomach and organising the Scrabble board. 

“Have you ever seen me think candles are not a good idea?” 

“Just, with the cats. If they knock into them and burn themselves. Or us. Or the house.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. They’ve both had their whiskers burned years ago, they steer away from fire. Here’s your holder,” Harry’s lost in organising his letters. 

Louis takes a look at his letters and then starts smirking. “Want to make things interesting?” 

Harry looks up to him, dimples on full show. “Always.” 

“We’ll bet. Loser gets punished.” 

Harry huffs. “Isn’t that a bit, I don’t know, unfair? For you?” 

Louis slaps Harry’s shoulder. “No, you twat, not playing for points this time.” 

Harry looks shocked. “What’s the point of playing if not for points?”

“Maybe for fun, you insanely competitive monster?” 

Harry looks doubtful. “But winning IS fun.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his wine. “Winning might be but you, my love, definitely are not.”

Harry stucks his tongue out and Louis taps it. 

“So, instead of playing for points, for each word we put down, the other one has to come up with a thing that relates to that word.” 

“Oh,” Harry looks impressed. “What kinda thing?” 

Louis taps his finger nail to the glass and looks around the room, his eyes finally stopping at the TV screen. “Like our favourite things? About each other?”

“Ok,” Harry nods slowly. “And if you can’t come up with anything?” 

“You lose, obviously.” 

“I see. So, just so I get this straight, which is not a thing I like to say,” Harry chuckles at himself, “I put down a word, let’s say cock, and you need to come up with something about me that you like, and if you can’t, you’ve lost.” 

“Exactly. Like for that word, I’d obviously compliment your delicious coq au vin”. 

“Obviously. So, is it like one missed word immediately results a loss or do we keep count and then just add them after we’re out of letters?” 

Louis ponders. “Let’s do an immediate lose. Like, I should hope you can come up with at least a few things you like about me.” 

Harry smiles. “Well, I think you definitely are great at…” 

Louis puts his finger on Harry’s lips, shutting him up. “Shh, Harold. Save it for when it actually counts.” 

Harry kisses Louis’ finger. “And for punishments? Oh, no, wait, I got mine!” He then adds, looking positively devious. “You have to take body shots off me.” 

Louis subconsciously licks his lips. “Hardly a burden, Haz.” 

“Bodyshots of milky, sugary tea!” Harry grins wide.

Louis fakes a gagging sound. “You cunt, you just ruined bodyshots for me forever.” 

Harry cackles. “Better not lose then.”

“Ok, we’ll play dirty then,” Louis agrees. “If, when, you lose, you need to give me a blowjob.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows, waiting for the inevitable ‘but’. 

“BUT, you can’t swallow,” Louis finishes triumphant. 

Harry’s face turns into a frown. “What’s the point of that? Like, what would I even do with it then?” 

Louis laughs. “Better not lose, then, eh Harold?”

“Fine,” Harry huffs. “Am putting at least four fucking sugars into that damn tea.” 

Louis moves to lay on his stomach as well, looking at his letters. Harry’s doing the same opposite him, worrying his lip. “Go on, you can start.” 

“No no, age before beauty,” Harry gestures towards Louis. 

Louis is still looking at his letters, when Dusty and Dotty sneak into the living room, Dusty coming to lie next to Louis, nudging his arm with 

her head. Louis greets her with a kiss on her forehead. “I think your mum was right. She really doesn’t think you exist anymore,” he says conversationally to Harry who has Dotty climbed on top of his bum, trying to find a good spot to doze off in. 

“You Brute,” Harry hisses to Dusty who turns her back to Harry and probably proves a point.

“Alright, here we go,” Louis puts down the first letters down on the board.

 **Fork**. 

Fork, fork… Is in the kitchen, goes with spoons and knives… Harry’s mind is mentally going through all things kitchen until he gets it, quite easily. 

“Spooning,” he starts and blushes a little. “I like that you still spoon me, like, when we sleep together. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to bed without you holding me. I, it, makes me feel very… loved.”

\----

_Harry draws the pattern on his phone to unlock it again. The numbers of the digital clock show it’s well past midnight. He has no new notifications, and it takes a lot to stop himself from going online to check for what he knows he’d find there. New pics, stupid fake pics, all the things he tries so hard to close off from his mind. He sighs, throwing the phone off further on the bed, and wraps the duvet tighter around himself. He closes his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep._

_He’s almost fallen asleep when he can feel a dip on the bed, apparently not having heard the front door open and the steps approaching their bed room. He stirs a little, peeking from under his tired eye lids._

_“Hey babe,” Louis whispers, pulling the duvet down a bit so he can kiss Harry’s bare shoulder. “Sleep well.” He adjusts himself behind Harry’s back and wraps his arm around his, pulling him closer until there’s no space between them._

_Harry takes Louis’ hand and laces their fingers, bringing Louis’ knuckles to his lips and brushing his lips against them. “Love you too,” he mutters and feels sleep take over._

\----

“I…” Louis seems a bit lost for words, “I didn’t realise it means so much to you, still.”

“It does,” Harry hums and busies himself with picking out his letters, “especially still. Here.” 

The words on the board spell out **Soup**.

“Ah, this is easy!” Louis smiles. “I like your nurse play. Even if you always get sick, too.” 

\----

_Louis is absolutely miserable, buried under piles of blankets on a pile of huge cushions on the sofa._

_“You need to eat something,” Harry tries to reason._

_“My throat’s on fire,” Louis moans. “I’m dying.”_

_“You’re not dying,” Harry’s brushing Louis’ sweaty fringe off his forehead. “You can’t leave me. I won’t have it.”_

_Louis sniffs. “Don’t show your titties in my funeral. That’s my dying wish.”_

_Harry chuckles and kisses Louis’ forehead. “Ok, I won’t. Won’t have good titties to show when I’m 95, which is the earliest time that’ll actually be happening.”_

_“Don’t kiss me,” Louis whines. “You’ll get sick too, you always do, and you’re a weakling. You always get sicker and this is the worst, this might just do you in.”_

_“I won’t get sick.”_

_“You will.”_

_Harry gives another kiss, this time straight to Louis’ lips. “Will you die less if I make you soup?”_

_Louis sniffs again. He’s absolutely pitiful. “Will you feed me?”_

_Harry smiles and nuzzles his cheek against Louis’ hot skin. “Don’t I always?”_

_“Put some in the freezer. I never make it quite as nice as you.”_

_A few days later, Louis is congratulating his forward-thinking past-self as he’s defrosting a heavenly smelling coconut-chicken soup for Harry, refusing to be sick on the sofa with a croaky voice and quite a temperature._

\----

“Now, see what you make of this, young Harold,” Louis puts down several letters and looks up at Harry. 

“So many points,” Harry fake-sobs at the waste of actual Scrabble points. 

The word is **Typewriter**. Harry’s eyes lit up and by looking at Louis, he knows they’re thinking about the same thing. 

\----

_Harry’s still fuming when they get back home. He slams the front door shut, doesn’t even bother to kick his shoes off, and – on purpose - uses an unnecessary amount of force when he empties the shopping bag._

_“Haz…” Louis starts carefully._

_“No, Lou. I don’t want to calm down.”_

_“I just meant…”_

_“I know what you are about to say, Louis,” Harry growls, “and I’m in SUCH.A.MOOD. that I don’t want to hear it.”_

_“You want me to just let you keep at it?”_

_“Please.”_

_Louis looks at Harry, ripping open a sack of potatoes and measuring them for the meanest looking one. “Ok, babe. What did you want to do?”_

_“Mash that stupid fucking potato,” Harry says through his teeth. He’s going through the kitchen drawers. “Do we have a potato masher?”_

_Louis looks at Harry behave like a little human storm, and sighs. He was pretty pissed off with the whole 1D potato saga at the show as well, but Harry’s something else. Suddenly, he remembers they’ve got a vintage typewriter – mostly as a decorative element – in their study. Hoping it’ll actually suit for the purpose, he takes a sheet of paper and starts typing ‘potato masher’. Happily he notices it does indeed work; he pulls the paper off the typewriter, cuts the pair of words from the paper and finds some Sellotape._

_“Here you go,” he presents the tiny piece of paper with Sellotape on it to Harry as he’s back in the kitchen._

_Harry lifts his eyes up from the magazine he’s from cutting off letters from. He looks at the piece of paper and beams._

_“Thanks for hating the same stuff with me.”_

\----

“I wonder how they’re doing,” Louis wonders a bit wistfully. 

“They seem happy enough, stuck on the window sill at our conservatory. Which you’d know if it were less messy,” Harry points out.

“Don’t bring the bears into your guilt tripping. We’ve already agreed on clearing the conservatory up. Will make a proper den for them,” Louis nods. 

Harry’s now finished putting down his next word on the board. 

**Music**. 

“Looking for gushing about your talent, are we?” Louis winks. “Well, I’m not going to boost your ego, rockstar.” 

\----

_Louis is tired and quite a lot pissed off at yet another fucking pointless show-off for paps, and he’s trying to figure out the time in LA, if it might still be too early to give Harry a ranting call. Or maybe it’s too late, maybe he’s already on his third drink and being annoyingly chirpy in some party, making equally pointless show for the cameras. Louis considers calling Liam and suggesting a very laddy beer fest with Fifa, when his phone lits up with a new notification._

_It’s from Spotify, telling Harry’s shared a playlist with him. He chuckles at the name, ‘Smooch you’, and checks the songs already added on it. He hasn’t heard of all of them, some of them he’s sure even his grandad has heard of, when he sees a new iMessage pop up._

_‘Made us a mix tape. Luv ya! x’ the message says, from Harry of course._

_Louis smiles to himself, abandoning ideas of calling Liam and instead opting for a night in, wallowing in the playlist. He sends a text to Harry, telling him he’s a ridiculous sap who’s the most embarrassing sap in the world of sappiness, but goes ahead to add another song to the playlist. It doesn’t take long for his phone to lit up again with a new iMessage._

_“You look good on the dance floor too xx” the message says._

\----

“My favourite playlist in the world,” Harry nods. “What is it now, ten hours long?” 

“Was almost fifteen when I added the new Lorde song last week.” 

Louis takes a while looking at his new letters that he picked up from the back, and then gets a spark in his eye, giggling a bit to himself whilst putting the letters down. 

**Poop**. 

“You little shit,” Harry shakes his head.

\----

_They have agreed to planting trees for a charity event. The sun is boiling hot and Harry can feel drops of sweat running down his face, and his vest is glued to his back. The trees are surprisingly heavy, and he’s trying to put a brave face on. Think of the kids, he sternly tells himself in his head._

_Looking over to his right, he sees Louis has already planted his tree and is taking a picture of the results of his hard labour. Someone from the charity comes to Louis, they exchange a few words and smile for the cameras. Louis looks annoyingly non-sweaty and non-suffering, when he finally comes to Harry who’s crouching on the ground._

_“Hello Harold,” he says cheerily. “You doing ok?”_

_“Shut up,” Harry grits, “this is shit.”_

_“You’re not wrong. You do know you’re actually hands on in shite, right?”_

_“What?” Harry frowns and wipes his forehead, probably leaving traces of dirt stuck to it._

_“You know mold is like, animal poo, right?”_

_Harry’s eyes widen. “No.”_

_“Yep,” Louis nods, “you’re literally covered at least partly in shit right now, love.”_

_Harry feels a bit sick and smells his hands, covered in gardening gloves. The smell is, well, descriptive. “Shit.”_

_“Touché, Harold,” Louis snickers and offers him a water bottle. “Remember it’s for the kids.”_

_Harry takes a sip from the water bottle, looks at Louis approaching some of the little kids the charity had brought in to the park to play. Louis bends down to talk to them, making them laugh and his eyes sparkle with the way the kids are trying to teach him some complicated looking game, and Harry figures that really, things could be a lot shittier._

\----

“I thought you’d be a goner with that one,” Louis sounds impressed. “Nicely done.” 

“Thanks, man,” Harry is pretty pleased with himself. “Eat this.” 

**Candy**. 

\----

_There are several different cute animals Louis has compared Harry with throughout the years. Cats, sloths, deer… But right now, he’s very much like a mouse. Louis’s just out of shower, and Harry’s laying on his side in their bed, a book – what was it that he said he was reading, something by Bukowski – propped up and a bag of candy hidden under his pillow. The bag makes crinkling sounds every time Harry takes a new sweet from it, smells it and pops it to his mouth._

_“I doubt they smell anything else but E codes,” Louis points out as he’s pulling his pajama pants, startling Harry._

_Harry pulls his hand out of the bag like it burns. “I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“You and your candy stacks,” Louis lies on the bed and leans over Harry to take a sweet for himself._

_“What candy stacks?” Harry is a horrible liar._

_“Oh please,” Louis rolls his eyes, “don’t you ever wonder why your night stand drawer runs out of candy?”_

_“I, well, uhh…”_

_“Because you have an observant me, babe,” Louis boops Harry’s nose, a nose that scrunches. “I keep refilling it.”_

\----

“But I do always share!”

“You do,” Louis leans in to give a small kiss to Harry. “It’s honestly one of the most adorable things about you, babe.” He looks at Dusty, sound asleep next to him, unable to stop himself from poking her side very, very gently. Dusty makes a small noise as a greeting and stirs, but doesn’t open her eyes. 

“Now for something green for my green eyes,” Louis makes out the word **Grass**. 

\----

_Harry loves watching Louis stretch, further away on the football pitch. He looks so relaxed, so carefree and happy when he’s joking around with the other celebrities dressed up in football gear. Sometimes Harry feels a bit sad for Louis; he knows music is Louis’ passion but so is football. He wishes he could somehow give Louis a life, a bit like in the movie Sliding Doors, where one Louis could be a music mayhem and the other could be a football star. But that’s not possible, and also would create the further problem of Harry needing to split himself in two as well, as he really can’t bear a thought of any version of Louis, or himself, being without the other._

_Luckily Louis is always asked for charity matches, Harry things as he’s letting his eyes wander up and down his boyfriend’s body. He’s standing on the side, left without much notice, so he feels allowed to be a bit blatantly pervy on this one occasion. He can’t seem to pull his eyes off Louis’ bum. He knows he’s staring, but he’s trying to make his eyes look vacant so that if someone would catch him, they’d just think he’s lost in his thoughts and looking without seeing. locker_

_He digs his phone off his pocket, and sends a row of suggestive vegetable and fruit emojis to Louis. He finds himself sending quite a few of them, so that when the game is over and Louis’ team celebrates in the locker rooms, he’ll have a total of seven messages to come to._

\----

“Such a bum boy,” Louis sounds proud and reached behind to pat his bum. He catches Harry’s eyes, staring a bit lustfully at the gesture. “You ok there, Harold?” 

Harry clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Sounding a bit hoarse,” Louis winds gleefully. 

“Funny you should say that,” Harry puts down the next word down. It’s **Horse**. 

\----

_Louis is pretty convinced that this boy, made out of wild curls and bright green eyes, topped with dimples deep enough to drown in, is literally made out of sunshine. And maybe kittens. He feels his whole world light up whenever Harry walks into the room, invades his space, laughs at his jokes and looks like maybe he’s a bit smitten with Louis, as well. One of his favourite things is making Harry laugh; the sound of Harry’s uncontrollable laughter, that may or may not sound a bit like the noise an excited horse would make. Not that Louis is very experienced with horses, excited or not, but the loud rumble Harry lets out, tone switching between high and low, is probably what it would sound like._

_So, Louis kind of loves the sound of Harry laughing. He’s rather unimpressed with how some annoying titface, dressed up in a suit, sitting next to other annoying titfaces at the other end of a table in their new management’s office, goes on to tell Harry that maybe he should laugh a little less or at least laugh a little bit quieter, that his loud laugh makes him seem a bit girly. Louis can see Harry look horrified, so embarrassed, but he can also see Harry nod resolutely. And then Harry stops laughing as much, as freely. They’re doing some of their first radio interviews, and Louis says something purposefully funny that he knows will make Harry laugh, he always wants to make Harry laugh. He can hear the first notes of that delightful Harry laughter but then it stops; he sees Harry has covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle the brilliant laughter._

_And it keeps happening. Louis is starting to forget the last time he saw Harry really laugh, without trying to physically cover it by putting his hands on his mouth. Louis decides he’s had enough of it and sits Harry down one afternoon. He’s telling an elaborate story about his and Stan’s utterly embarrassing try of a double-date when they were 15, which may or may not be slightly exaggerated for humour value._

_Harry lets out the first droplets of an excellent belly laugh and then, again, goes on to cover his mouth with his hands. Louis takes his hands to his and puts them down, holding them. He kisses Harry’s lips and then both of his hands. “Your laugh is honestly my favourite sound in this world, Dimples,” Louis tells Harry seriously. “Never be embarrassed of making me so happy.”_

_The following day, they’re having another interview. The interviewer’s great, nice and funny, and Harry laughs at one point and instead of covering his mouth, uses his hand to slap his knee._

_Louis realises he’s in love._

\----

Harry’s staring at Louis with his green eyes sparkling. “That’s… I don’t know what to say. Like, I know that’s how I felt, but that you would think that, too…”

Louis shrugs. “Well, you know. Adore you and all that.” He has put down another word on the board. 

Harry keeps staring at Louis, looking quite a bit like he can’t quite get that this is his life and his relationship and his boy. He then looks down at the word and rubs his nose. “I don’t think I have anything on that.” 

“No?” Louis looks surprised. “On this one?”

“Yeah, I… I give up. Got nothing. I’m happy to take my punishment. Like, right now.” He stands up, blows off the candles and waits for Louis to take his hand and follow him upstairs to the guest bedroom.

On the abandoned Scrabble board, a new word has appeared. It spells out **Love**.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it - if you did, kudos and comments make my day xx


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